Delicacy

Epilogue

"I have died everyday waiting for you
Darling don't be afraid I have loved you
For a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more"
—Christina Perri

"Momma! Momma! Push me higher!" Josiah screams from the swing. I oblige and give it a little more elbow grease.

Josiah is now five. Three years after the wedding, we were blessed with a babygirl, Jennifer Rose Taylor.

Just like Reid's hunch, she looks exactly like me. Feisty and delicate. Josiah is very, and I mean very, overprotective of her. I'd be surprised if he'd actually let her get a boyfriend in the future.

Jennifer has every feature of mine, besides my honey eyes. Which is okay—Reid's eyes are much more beautiful and alluring. That, and I don't want her to have the same eyes that my mother was gifted with. Even if she did have my eyes, I wouldn't love her any less then I do right now.

Reid sits under the willow tree in our backyard, painting our daughters toenails a bright lilac. The warmth from my heart radiates from my chest creating a fuzzy feeling. It spreads to each one of my nerves making me shiver.

Seeing Reid in father mode is one of the most charming and sexiest sights I've ever seen.

"Can we go cloud gaze mommy?" The innocent freckled boy asks. Evening is less than an hour away, the clouds are beginning to disappear and welcoming the stars.

"Of course, honey."

He strides off into the grass and lays down. I follow him and we both start pointing out shapes.

"That one looks like a pirate ship!" His chubby finger points to a cloud.

"Oh wow! It does. How about that one?" I point to a cloud not to far from his.

"Hmm, that one looks like a flower!"

"Oh yeah?" Reid saunters over with Jennifer waddling next to him, clutching his thick finger in her tiny palm. "What kind of flower?"

"Sub—sum—" he huffs in frustration, "I give up!"

"Sunflower?" I ask.

"Yeah! That one."

"How about that one?" Reid points to a cloud with a smirk on his face. I follow his finger and my eyes widen in shock. I sit up and playfully slap his arm. He chuckles and shrugs.

"Hmm," Josiah rubs his chin as he studies the highly inappropriate shaped cloud.

"Scissors!" Josiah declares. I sigh in relief and glare at Reid who is laughing up a storm.

"What? It's anatomy, completely normal baby."

"What's anatomy, daddy?"

"The human body," Reid ruffles his mini-me's hair and kisses my cheek.

We lay under the clouds for what feels like hours. Our children softly fall asleep next to us. I cradle Jennifer to my side as she stirs and smiles in her slumber.

Reid kisses my temple, "I love you so much babygirl. Thank you for giving me a family."

"I love you too, honey," I motion to our sleeping babies and kiss his lips.

No matter how many times I kiss him, it always feels like the first time.

That night we carry our children into our cozy home and tuck them into their beds. We both close the door to their room and tiptoe to our room across the hall.

I stare out the Bay window of our bedroom and watch as the stars glisten in the night sky.

I felt him before I saw him. His presence sends a tingle through my spine. His strong arms wrapped around my waist and I lean my head on his chest.

He kisses a cheek and turns me to face him.

We stared at each other.

Warm Honey to Electric Blue.

"You saved me, Reid. You made me whole again."

"I'm the one who should be saying that, my angel," he softly caresses my cheek.

"Thank you for loving me," I continued.

"Never thank me for loving you, babygirl," he replied.

He made me feel that I belonged . . . and it was exactly that.

I was his.

And he was mine.

We were one.

I was his angel just like he was my savior in the abyss of darkness.

I use to be whole, filled to the brim with life.

And then she took it from me, "like taking candy from a baby."

As if my prayers were heard, I met him.
He filled up my life that was taken so meaninglessly from me.

He taught me how to love in a world so cold.

He taught me how to grow like a flower that's been kept in the dark too long—deprived of the precious light.

He taught me how to flourish like a butterfly that's been bound by her cocoon.

I have gotten stronger, physically and mentally.

I have gotten older, from the child that was tainted by her mother.

My past is a reflection of my survival. My scars; hard and raw evidence of my survival.

I may be stronger and older, but I am—and always will remain, a delicacy.